I wanted to write this all down while it's still fresh in my mind; before I think and wordsmith the emotion and, with it, the very meaning of what I truly feel. I think it's what any of us might feel when a loved one has a massive stroke. We begin to ponder our own fragile mortality. Not that we haven't thought about it as we've aged, but there comes a time when these thoughts become all too possible realities. Like when we're 65 years old and people around us begin dropping like flies, or when a loved one is down for the count. We try to deflect the topic by denying our own mortality, and we succeed, for the most part, until it jumps out like a "Jack-in-the-Box" with boxing gloves and punches us fully in the face.
To read more of this post of my humble thoughts on aging, please follow the attached link: My Own Mortality
But I'm pretty astute in life now at close to 60 [awake]; hope it stays that way....
However, both my parents died... more